Rhythm
by The Tenth
Summary: Yuki and Shuichi together behind a waterfall of rain, Yuki is reluctantly charming


Rhythm

Shuichi stared out the window, propping his head in one hand. The outer edge of his hand curled around his chin until the tip of his pinky tapped at the corner of his mouth. A mangled spiral-bound notebook slouched in his lap, covered in scrawled writing, much of which was crossed out or written over. Writing lyrics had always been Shuichi's most despised part of the composition process, but that triumphant high of having the words _completed_ was incomparable.

Outside, rain sheeted down the window of Yuki's apartment—a typical Tokyo downpour. It wasn't just some modest misty drizzle, but the shameless thunder of pounding water that felt like standing under a waterfall to a hapless person caught outside in it.

It felt like a waterfall even now. It was as if Yuki's flat was some secluded cave, shielded behind hundreds of gallons of pounding water. No one would dare to push past that foreboding wall of water to the cozy retreat behind it.

The rain kept the two of them locked inside together, kept unwelcome visitors out. It was an excuse for Shuichi to bring Yuki green tea --the only thing he could make without burning it beyond recognition—while his lover was chained to his laptop working on his manuscript.

Today promised to be just such a cozy day and Shuichi had started with the firm resolve to keep quiet rather than blasting his music video DVDs in the hopes that Yuki would spend more time in the living room or keep the door to his study open.

So far so good. Shuichi lauded himself for spending the whole day thus far quiet and out from underfoot. Never mind that the whole day thus far was only the few hours between his awakening and noon; it was still an accomplishment. Yuki hadn't voiced a word of complaint and Shuichi diligently worked on the lyrics he'd been promising would be ready the week before.

He stole a surreptitious glance in Yuki's direction. The stoic writer was occupied in the kitchen, sautéing something that smelled ambrosial. The _thok, thok, thok_ of the kitchen knife on cutting board echoed the rhythm of the rain outside and Shuichi felt his heart warm and swell with a rare feeling of contentment.

He watched silently, a mute witness to Yuki's work in the kitchen. His lover's face had lost its typical grim expression and adopted the more relaxed look he wore when he thought no one was looking. They'd moved to the new apartment only a week before, but already he moved deftly from cupboard to drawer, finding just what he needed. Deftly chopping vegetables to just the right width. Cooking without using a book for reference. Cool as always, Shuichi sighed inwardly.

And then, pushing through the white noise of the falling rain and the occasional clatter of cookware, Shuichi's ears caught the drifting sound of Yuki humming. The man's voice was hushed and unfocused, the sound of someone who had a song stuck in his head and didn't realize he was humming it out loud. He wasn't blessed with impeccable pitch—gods knew Yuki had been given enough talent in other departments—but just that rare sound of music from his lips was enough to make Shuichi blush with some irrational giddiness, glad he was able to witness this moment.

And only after Yuki had hummed a few bars did Shuichi truly register the song he was singing. The revelation shocked him down to his core and he felt himself shiver in delighted glee. Yuki, whether knowingly or not, was humming one of the most recent Bad Luck songs he'd written. He must have heard Shuichi looping it and working on it at home so many times, he'd learned parts of it.

Shuichi fought a raging internal battle to resist the urge to squeal with delight and ecstatically point out to Yuki that he was humming one of his songs. But instead, he pressed his lips together, resisted the urge. If he pointed it out, it would only embarrass Yuki and then he'd probably never do it again. So Shuichi bit back a love struck sigh and watched in mute worship of his partner in a rare, unwittingly sweet moment.

After humming only the chorus a few times over—he didn't seem to know how the next part went and hummed in looping fragments—Yuki turned back to his cooking, his voice trailing off. He glanced up through dark eyelashes, finally sensing eyes watching him.

His expression immediately changed to something more aloof and removed. An instinct born of self-consciousness. "What?" he asked flatly to the boy staring at him.

"Nothing," Shuichi said meekly, still wrestling back the giddy boyish smile that ached to cross his lips, "Just working on the song still. Listening to the rain."

Shuichi figured Yuki would pounce on the opportunity to remind him that he was a no-talent hack in the writing department, but instead the blond simply mumbled a non-committal, "Mmm," and went back to what he was doing.

His insides still fluttering with the joy of hearing his music on Yuki's lips, Shuichi turned back to his lyric notebook. He found that he was inspired at last.


End file.
